


Aftermath

by The_Doom_Dahlia



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: (tbh it's mostly angst and a character study but there is some fluff), F/F, Fluff and Angst, I see this as musical verse but it could honestly be either, Non-Canon Autistic Character, booze mention, post-Chandler's death, the word 'dyke' is used as a self-insult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Doom_Dahlia/pseuds/The_Doom_Dahlia
Summary: After Heather Chandler's funeral, her former friends struggle with what comes next.





	

“Heather?” Heather asked softly, clutching tightly onto her dog, running her hands over his fur, letting the soft texture soothe her. She knew he was going to get fur all over her good black dress, but found her worries over it drowned out by her need for comfort. She had to stim with _something_ , lest she break down again. It had happened once during Heather's funeral, when she was called upon to speak and her father had to pull her away from the pulpit, her vision cloudy with tears.

Duke sighed in irritation, dropping the magazine in her hands. “What is it, Heather?” she asked, sitting up and looking at the blonde. They were both still draped in black, Duke’s veil and hat discarded on the head of one of Mac’s stuffed animals. It had only been an hour or two since they’d watched their former leader’s coffin sink into the Earth, closing them off from her forever, and while their parents comforted Chandler’s grieving family, the two had escaped to Mac’s room to think.

“Why haven’t you cried yet?” Mac asked softly, letting Cheese run off, brushing his fur off of her clothes as she gazed up at her friend, wide brown eyes curious and bright in the dim light of her bedroom. “I mean, you didn’t cry at the funeral, and you didn’t cry when we found out, so…”

Duke stiffened at her question. Could Heather tell that she hadn’t wept for Heather? Scoffing and putting up a scandalized front, she snapped “How _dare_ you. You know how much I cared about her! I just don’t like to mourn in front of others!”

Heather squeaked, covering her ears in a reflex and apologizing. Duke sighed, turning away from her and going back to her magazine, satisfied in the thought that the blonde had been thrown off the truth. A tug in her heart made her want to turn back around and comfort the grieving blonde. She knew Heather was struggling with Heather's death far more than she was. After all, the girl had hung onto every word, every gesture, everything Chandler did, just as much as Duke herself had. But, her pride and her desire to seem stoic and powerful kept her faced away. All was quiet for a while, before she heard the bed-springs creak and felt another body beside her, that same soft, almost cloying voice asking “Heather?”, making her turn and stare into those massive hazel pools. “What is it.” she sighed, voice clipped.

“...now that Heather’s gone, does that mean we can...” Heather trailed off, making eye contact with Heather, the only person she felt safe doing so with. Their hands met, fingers intertwining beneath one of the soft pillows on her bed.

Duke felt her expression and her heart soften at her words. It had been two years, two years of hands held in the darkness of movie theaters, soft kisses during sleepovers when Chandler had gone out for a smoke, and endless insults and poison between them, just to cover up the truth. She wanted so badly to kiss Heather, tell her that they could be open and honest, that there was no need to hide anymore.

But another desire had long since welled up in her, stronger than her adoration: a lust for power and glory. She wanted to be everything Heather had been before she stopped being able to cut it: beloved, respected, **_feared_**. How could she become those things if everyone in town knew that she and Heather were _bull dykes_?

No. She couldn’t let anyone know, it would ruin her high school career. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep this going a little longer, did it? Have the best of both worlds: respect and power and the girl she cared for?

“Soon. At the end of this year, we'll drop Kurt and Ram, and tell our parents, and everything will be okay.” she murmured, pressing her lips to Mac’s cheek, making the small girl smile wide, hands flapping wildly. Duke allowed a smile to slip onto her lips, then cleared her throat, frowning. “Now, be a good girl and go steal some booze from downstairs for me. I want to drown my sorrows.”

“Okay.” Heather said softly, still sunk deeply in awe and adoration, walking downstairs with her dog, hoping her father was still outside with the Chandlers and Duke’s mother. Her heart felt like a bright balloon despite the loss of her friend. She trusted in Duke whole-heartedly, and as she walked carefully down the marble staircase, she dreamt of them in beautiful gowns, swaying hand-in-hand at the senior prom.

Once alone, Duke pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. She had to bury her feelings deeper somehow, make sure no one would be able to tell. She had to be crueler to Heather, crush the small girl’s spirit in public and put her back together again when they were alone. She had to be worse than Heather Chandler could have ever been, and dig into everything she knew would hurt her.

The absolute lack of guilt at that realization both terrified and thrilled her. She wondered if this was what power felt like: a sheer lack of guilt and remorse.

If that was true, she wanted nothing more. Even if she had to crush some hearts to get it.


End file.
